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Her Return to King's Bed
Maureen Child


She married him. Used him. Then left him. Rico King has waited five years for revenge. Now he’s got Teresa Coretti where he wants her. To save her family, she’ll return to Rico’s island… and his bed… for one month.That will cure the hunger that’s afflicted him since she left… But Rico can’t know what it cost Teresa to leave him. Nor the exquisite torture of being with him again.Because soon, her divided loyalties could once again cost her the love of her life.







“What exactly is it that you want from me, Rico?”

“I want you,” Rico said flatly.

The ice inside Teresa melted in a flash. “You what?”

“I want you here. In my bed.”

“You do?”

“For one month,” he qualified, splintering her fantasies. “You’re lucky I’m not demanding the five years that you were gone. You will stay here for one month. You will share my bed like a good wife.”

“You’re not going to blackmail me into sex.”

“Of course not. But we will sleep in the same bed. And when we do have sex again, Teresa, it will be your idea. You remember how good it was between us …”

Oh, she really did.

“Blackmail isn’t necessary for what lies between us.”

He was right, God help her.

* * *

Her Return to King’s Bed is part of the Kings of California series: Money and power can get the King men anything … but love.


Her Return to King’s Bed

Maureen Child




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


MAUREEN CHILD writes for Mills & Boon


Desire


and can’t imagine a better job. Being able to indulge your love for romance as well as being able to spin stories just the way you want them told is, in a word, perfect.

A seven-time finalist for the prestigious Romance Writers of America RITA


Award, Maureen is the author of more than one hundred romance novels. Her books regularly appear on the bestseller lists and have won several awards, including a Prism, a National Readers’ Choice Award, a Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill.

Maureen believes that laughter goes hand in hand with love, so her stories are always filled with humor. The many letters she receives assures her that her readers love to laugh as much as she does.

Maureen Child is a native Californian, but has recently moved to the mountains of Utah. She loves a new adventure, though the thought of having to deal with snow for the first time is a little intimidating.


To my husband, the man who is always there when I need him and who still makes me laugh every day. I love you.


Contents

Chapter One (#u3544b73b-3553-5688-913f-b4fe237f6a17)

Chapter Two (#u2c352631-dcce-5d21-8aa4-98f83060be3c)

Chapter Three (#uaf4291dc-71f5-5012-b356-e70b82bcadf0)

Chapter Four (#ubcfff672-5c23-5d13-8979-1da4cb34925c)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)


One

“A jewel thief?” Rico King demanded of his chief of security. “Here in the hotel?”

Franklin Hicks scowled. The man was late thirties, stood six foot five and boasted a shaved head and sharp blue eyes. “Only explanation. The guest in bungalow six—Serenity James—reported that some of her diamonds are missing. I’ve already interviewed the maid and room service.”

Bungalow six. Rico could have pulled up the map of the hotel on his computer, but there was no need. He knew every inch of his place. He knew that the bungalows were set apart from the main hotel—for privacy, since a lot of his clientele insisted on seclusion. People like Serenity James, an up-and-coming Hollywood darling who, in spite of her name, lived life on the edge.

The actress might claim to want to avoid photographers and nosy guests, but according to security, there were men streaming in and out of her bungalow at all hours. Any one of them could have made off with the diamonds. He hoped it would be that easy.

“What about Ms. James’s ‘guests’?” Rico looked up at the other man. “Did you talk to them, as well?”

Snorting, Franklin admitted, “We’re still running them all to ground, but I don’t think it was one of them, boss. If those diamonds were taken by one of her ‘guests,’ they’d have helped themselves to more than just the one necklace. Whoever took the diamonds was picky about it. Took the stones that would be easiest to pry out of their settings and sell. Smells like a professional job to me. Besides, you have to remember we’ve had two more reports of stolen property in the last few days. Gotta be a pro.”

“Not good news,” Rico mused.

His hotel, the Tesoro Castle, had only been open for a little more than six months. It was new, fresh and exclusive and had quickly become the hot spot for celebrities and the überwealthy who were looking for a private getaway spot. Tesoro Island sat in the middle of the Caribbean, but it was privately owned. No one landed here—private yacht or cruise ship—without permission of the owner, Walter Stanford.

Which meant that those seeking privacy had nothing to fear from paparazzi, except for the occasional overachiever who used telephoto lenses from a boat anchored far offshore.

Tesoro was lush and secluded, and the Castle was like Disneyland for adults: there were infinity pools, the best spas in the world and sweeping ocean views from every room. The hotel had deliberately been built small, to keep it a select destination. There were only a hundred and fifty rooms, not counting the private bungalows scattered across the grounds. The interiors were opulent, service was impeccable and the island itself carried an air of dreamy seduction. For those who could afford it, Tesoro promised a world of languid pleasures for all of the senses.

And damned if Rico was going to allow his hotel’s reputation to be stained. If there was a professional thief operating in his place, then that thief would be found.

“Security cameras?” Rico demanded.

“Nothing.” Franklin scowled as if the word tasted bitter. “Another reason to go with the professional thief theory. Whoever it was, they knew how to bypass the cameras.”

Perfect.

“Set up a meeting with your men. I want eyes and ears everywhere. If you need to hire more security,” Rico said, “call my cousin Griffin. King Security can have more men here tomorrow if we need them.”

Franklin bristled. He’d once worked for Griffin King and his twin, Garrett, and had decided to leave in favor of being chief of security here on the island. He clearly didn’t care for the suggestion that there might be something he couldn’t handle. “I won’t need more men. The team I’ve got is the best in the world. Now that I know we’re looking for a pro, we’ll find him.”

Rico nodded. He understood pride and he knew that Franklin’s had been pricked. He was in charge and having a professional thief on the grounds was a direct slap in the face. But pride notwithstanding, if Rico decided they needed more help, Franklin would get extra men whether he liked it or not.

This hotel had been Rico’s dream. Built to his exact specifications by King Construction, the Tesoro Castle was the epitome of luxury hotels. He’d been working toward this project for all of his adult life. He owned several hotels and each in its own way was spectacular. But this place on Tesoro was his crowning achievement. He’d do whatever he had to do to protect his name and his investment.

Shaking his head in irritation, Rico turned and stared out his office window at the view spread out below him. The island of Tesoro, Spanish for “treasure,” was aptly named.

Miles of unspoiled beaches, aquamarine ocean, thick jungles with amazing waterfalls hidden away in the stands of trees. Sunshine every damn day and unlike most of the Caribbean, the trade winds blew across Tesoro almost constantly, keeping the heat—and flying insects—at bay.

Rico had spent months with Walter Stanford, negotiating for his own slice of the old man’s paradise. Hell, he’d even had some of his cousins come in and talk to the older man for him. Of course, Rico mused, that had worked out for Sean King, since he’d married Walter’s granddaughter Melinda.

After the negotiations, the months spent building this place and the time and expense of furnishing and staffing this hotel to get it just right...irritation blossomed into quietly restrained fury. No one was going to ruin this place.

His guests came to Tesoro looking for beauty, privacy and security and he would see that they got it.

Just the thought of jewel thieves on the island had him gritting his teeth and flexing his hands into fists that had no one to punch. He supposed it was only natural that thieves would find their way here to Tesoro, where the rich flocked in droves. Just as it was natural that when he found whoever was behind this, he’d see them locked away for decades.

But a professional thief risked a lot to make a play on Tesoro. The island was too small. Too difficult to get to and to leave from. And since no ships had left the harbor in days, whoever the thief was, he was still on the island and he still had the stolen property on him.

Jewel thieves.

Suddenly, those two words began to echo over and over again in his mind as warning bells started clanging inside his head. Even then, though, Rico assured himself that the little voice inside his head had to be wrong.

No way would she risk that.

Not even she would have the nerve to chance facing him again.

But what if she had?

“Boss?”

“What?” Rico glanced over his shoulder at Franklin.

“You want me to contact Interpol about this?”

The international police force with hundreds of member countries didn’t make arrests or have its own jail, but it could and did provide much-needed data on suspected thieves, killers and just about any crime imaginable.

“No,” he said, ignoring the look of surprise on his head of security’s face. Instead, he turned back to look out the window over the playground he’d built for the rich and famous. Rico’s brain was racing with possibilities and his adrenaline surged at the idea that he just might be at the threshold of the revenge he’d waited five years to take.

No chance in hell he’d bring Interpol into this before he knew whether or not his gut instinct was right or not.

“We’ll handle it on island,” he said, never taking his gaze from the horizon, where the sunlight glinted off the water in bright shards. “Once we’ve got the thief, we’ll decide what to do then.”

“Your call,” Franklin said, then he left, closing the office door behind him.

“Yeah, it is,” Rico told himself aloud. And if this jewel thief turned out to be the woman who’d stolen from him once before...Interpol would be lucky if there was anything left of her to hand over.

* * *

“Papa, please. Leave now before it’s too late.” Teresa Coretti glanced from her father to the closed door of his suite and back again.

She was so anxious just being here on Tesoro, even her nerves had nerves. But she’d had to come. The moment she’d realized where her father and brother had gone on their supposed vacation, Teresa had had no choice.

“How can I leave?” her father asked with an exaggerated shrug and a smile. “I’ve not finished my holiday.”

Holiday.

If only.

If Nick Coretti was really taking a sabbatical from his avocation, no one at the Tesoro Castle would have lost any of their possessions. No, her father could call this a holiday if he wanted to, but the truth was he was working. As he always was.

Dominick was a shorter, older, Italian version of George Clooney. His tan was permanent, and his sharp brown eyes missed nothing. His black hair was gray-streaked, but that only seemed to give him an air of distinction. He was polished and always a gentleman. He had been a faithful husband until Teresa’s mother’s death ten years ago.

Since then, he had used his considerable charm to smooth his way into high society, where, he said, “the pickings are always worth the effort.” He loved women; women loved him. And he was the best jewel thief in the world—not counting Teresa’s brothers, Gianni and Paulo.

Her father was always on the lookout for his next job. She should have known that he would never have been able to resist the allure of Tesoro. For him, it was the mother lode.

The problem was, this fabulous hotel belonged to Rico King and that was really not a good thing.

It had been five years since she’d seen Rico and just thinking his name sent a ripple of heat along her spine. Like it was yesterday, she could see those blue eyes of his as he stared down at her. She could almost taste his mouth on hers and hardly a night went by that she didn’t dream of his hands sliding across her skin.

She’d spent so much time trying to get Rico out of her mind as well as her life—and here she was. On his turf.

Warily, she turned her head for a quick look outside to the terrace, as if half expecting to see Rico standing there. Glaring at her.

But the elegantly furnished deck was empty save for the glass-topped table, the chairs and matching chaise and a silver bucket holding her father’s favorite brand of champagne. Which, she thought, brought her right back to the problem at hand.

“Papa,” she started, “I asked you to stay away from Rico King, remember?”

Nick flicked an imaginary piece of lint from the elegantly tailored suit jacket he wore, then smoothed one hand along the side of his perfectly styled hair. “Of course I remember, my angel. And as promised,” he continued, wagging a finger at her, “I have refused all temptation to relieve Mr. King of his valuables.”

Teresa sighed. “That’s not what I meant, Papa. Tesoro is Rico’s. Being here, stealing from his guests, you might as well be lifting his wallet. You’re tempting fate, Papa. Rico is not exactly an understanding man.”

“Ah, Teresa,” Nick said, carrying his crystal flute to the terrace where he refilled his glass and took a sip before continuing. “You were always too nervous. Too...” He paused, tipped his head back and tried to come up with the right word. Finally, he added sadly, “Honest.”

A wry smile curved Teresa’s mouth. Where else but in her family would honesty be considered a fatal flaw? She’d lived on the fringes of the law since she was a child. Before she was five, she could identify a plainclothes police officer as well as a possible mark with alacrity. While other children played with dolls, Teresa learned to pick locks. When her girlfriends were taking driver’s education, Teresa studied with her uncle Antonio, the master safecracker.

She loved her family, but she’d never been comfortable with stealing for a living. At eighteen, she had broken it to her father that she had gone on her last job. Instead, she became the first Coretti in memory to go to school and be legally, gainfully employed.

Her father still considered it a tragic waste of her talents.

While her mind raced, she watched her father settle on the chaise and stare off at the resort spread below.

Rico had built something amazing here, she thought, but that didn’t surprise her. He was a man who never settled for less than the best, no matter the circumstances. She’d learned that when she first met him so long ago in Cancún.

At his hotel, Castello de King—King’s Castle—Teresa had been one of the innumerable chefs in the immense hotel kitchens. In her first real job after culinary school, she was excited simply to be a part of the hustle that took place in that amazing kitchen. Teresa had believed that working in that hotel was the best thing that had ever happened to her—until she met Rico himself.

She’d worked late one night and before heading to her apartment, Teresa had treated herself to a little relaxation. She’d carried a glass of wine out to one of the beach lounge chairs and sat to enjoy the night, the moon on the water and the lovely sensation of being absolutely alone.

Then he had appeared, walking along the water’s edge, moonlight shining on his dark hair and making the white shirt he wore seem to glow. He’d worn tan slacks and his bare feet had kicked through the water with every step. She couldn’t seem to look away from him. He was tall and dark and as he came closer, she realized he was gorgeous. He was also her employer. Rico King, playboy, gazillionaire, hotelier and at the moment, as alone as she.

In an instant, her mind replayed that scene.

He glanced up as if sensing her gaze on him and when he saw her, he smiled and headed for her. “I thought I was alone on the beach.”

“So did I,” she managed to say.

“Shall we be alone together?”

Teresa still remembered that faintest hint of an accent coloring his words. His eyes were a piercing blue, his hair as black as the night and his smile was temptation personified. She couldn’t have said no to him even if she had tried—which she hadn’t. Rico had sat on the sand beside her and they’d shared her glass of wine and spent the next couple of hours talking.

Teresa came out of the memory and mentally warned herself to stop reliving the past. To stop indulging in thoughts of him and what might have been. She was here on Tesoro—in Rico’s hotel—for one reason only: to get her family out of there before Rico discovered them. If only her father had listened to her. But Nick Coretti was a force of nature and when the prize was rich, no risk was too much.

Rico would find them. Teresa knew that man too well to think that he would allow jewel thieves to operate freely in his place. It was only a matter of time. Which meant that she had to get the Coretti family off Tesoro. Fast.

Teresa followed her father to the terrace. The sunlight was bright, the sky a brilliant blue and a soft breeze carried the scent of tropical flowers as it lifted her hair off her neck.

“Papa, you don’t know Rico like I do. He will catch you.”

Her father snorted, then shook his head and chuckled. “Bellissima, no Coretti has ever been caught. We are too good at what we do.”

True, she thought, but the Corettis had never come up against an adversary like Rico before, either. Yes, various police forces from several countries had tried and failed to pin a crime on the Corettis. But their interest in the family of thieves had been purely professional.

For Rico, this would be personal.

“Papa, you have to trust me on this.” She laid one hand on his arm. “Please, let’s get off the island while we still can.”

He clucked his tongue at her. “You have made far too much of this man you once cared for. Always you believe he is searching for you. Searching for us.”

“He did search for me, remember?”

Nick waved that away. “You pricked his pride when you left him, my darling. It is understandable. No man would care for losing such a lovely woman from his life. But it’s now five years. I believe it’s time you stop worrying about this man.”

Five years or five minutes. Rico was the kind of man who never left a woman’s thoughts.

Besides, her father didn’t know everything that had happened between her and Rico. Some things she hadn’t been able to share, not even with her family.

Watching her father now, looking like the lord of the manor as he stared out over the luxurious view spread below him, she thought that under any other circumstances, he and Rico might have been friends. They were two of the most stubborn, willful men she had ever known.

And realizing that meant she had to admit she was fighting a losing battle. Dominick Coretti would never leave a job half-finished. And now that he had begun to infiltrate the guests at the Castle, he wouldn’t leave until he was good and ready.

Which made him a sitting duck for Rico. Every hotelier in the world knew the Corettis. They weren’t invisible. They were simply so good at what they did, there was never any evidence against them. They were high profile, wealthy and they didn’t hide in out-of-the-way spots. Nick Coretti, like all of those who came before him, believed in living his life to the fullest. The fact that he did it with other people’s money didn’t change anything.

Ordinarily Teresa might have worried that coming here herself would give up the game because Rico would notice her. But her family was here. In plain sight. And now diamonds were missing. Rico would put the two together.

Her father stood, poured more champagne and stepped to the wrought-iron lace of the balcony railing. He might have been enjoying the view, but Teresa knew him well enough to know that he was looking not at the resort, but at its guests. He would be scoping them out, looking for his next target—assuming he hadn’t already chosen one.

For all his charm, Dominick wasn’t a man to be crossed. As head of the Coretti family, he might as well have been a general ordering his troops around. When he made a plan, that was it. The rest of the family fell in line.

Except for Teresa. As a kid, she’d been intrigued by the Coretti family legacy. As a teenager, she’d begun wishing that they could stay put in their house outside Naples. That she could belong, instead of traipsing all over Europe. They never stayed in one place more than a month and only came back to their home base occasionally, so it was impossible to make friends. Teresa and her brothers had been homeschooled and along with the usual—history, math and such—had taken classes on lock picking, safecracking and forgery. By the time the Coretti children were adults, they were each prepared to carry on the family dynasty.

That was when Teresa had taken her stand. Her father had raged and argued, her mother had wept and her brothers hadn’t really believed she would do it. But in the end, Teresa had become the one Coretti in generations who hadn’t joined the family business. Which made her a puzzle to her brothers and an irritation to her father.

“You’re making too much of this, Teresa,” he chided now with a sad shake of his head. “This is no different from any other job, and when we have finished, we will be gone. With no one the wiser.”

“You’re wrong, Papa,” she argued again. “You don’t know Rico as I do. He’s a dangerous man.”

Dangerous to her, anyway.

That got Nick’s attention. “Did this man harm you in some way? If he did—”

“No.” She interrupted him quickly. The problem, she thought, was that the Coretti family had a history with Rico that her father knew nothing about. And now wasn’t the time to tell the story. “He didn’t hurt me. But Papa, he won’t allow thieves to operate in his place. He’ll find you and when he does...”

“What can he do?” Nick laughed a little and sipped at his champagne. “He will have no proof of anything. You should know better, Teresa. The Coretti family is not so easy to catch.”

“Obviously it is not as difficult as you might wish.” A deep, familiar voice spoke up from directly behind her.

Teresa went absolutely still.

She would know that voice anywhere.

With a weird mixture of dread and anticipation, she slowly turned and looked into the eyes of Rico King.


Two

“What’s the meaning of this?” the older man in the room demanded, striding in from the terrace to face Rico. “Who are you? What are you doing in my suite?”

“Papa,” Teresa said, rising from her chair, “this is Rico King.”

“Ah,” Nick mused with a half smile. “Our host. Still, this doesn’t give you the right to intrude uninvited.”

Rico steamed silently and hated the fact that he had to force his gaze away from Teresa’s to meet her father’s. The glint in the other man’s eyes told Rico the older Coretti had known exactly who Rico was. This was all part of the game. “The fact that you’re a thief on my property gives me all of the rights I need.”

“Thief?” The older man bristled and puffed up until his chest was so full of air, Rico wouldn’t have been surprised to see him lift off the floor and float about the room.

“Papa, please.” Teresa stepped in between the two men like a referee interrupting a prizefight. Facing Rico, she said, “We’ll leave. Right away.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he told her and felt that bubble of righteous anger fuel him again.

Five years, he told himself. Five long years wondering where the hell she was. If she was dead or injured. If she was laughing at him from some other man’s bed. No. She wasn’t leaving. Not until he was good and ready for her to be gone. And at the moment, he didn’t know just when that might be.

She went pale and her brown eyes shone with too many banked emotions to identify. If he had cared to try. Which he didn’t, he assured himself. Instead, Rico dismissed her and focused his gaze on the other man in the room.

Dominick Coretti was stylish, confident and even now Rico could see the gleam of exhilaration in his eyes. He was already trying to think of a way out. A way to salvage a situation that had turned on him unexpectedly. Well, there was no way out for him—unless he did exactly as Rico wanted.

“I am insulted that you would think me a thief,” Nick began, clearly sticking to his routine of outraged guest. “And I will not stay where I am clearly unwelcome. My family and I will book passage off the island by this evening.”

“Your family will not be allowed to leave until the jewelry you’ve taken has been returned.”

“I beg your pardon—”

“There is no pardon here,” Rico told him flatly. Oh, he had to hand it to the man. He was pulling off the insulted-guest routine so well that if Rico hadn’t been sure of his facts, he might have believed him. Problem was, there was no doubt in Rico’s mind just who the Coretti family really was.

“Once the jewelry is returned,” he said with a knowing smile, “you and your son can leave. My wife will remain with me.”

“Wife?” Nick echoed.

“Wife?” Teresa yelped.

Finally, Rico looked to her again and was pleased to see stunned shock on her beautiful features. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open and color had rushed in to fill her pale, honey-toned cheeks.

“That’s crazy.”

“It’s true.”

“You said nothing to me of marrying this man,” her father accused.

“It wasn’t important,” she argued without even glancing at the other man.

Those three words slapped at Rico and only served to fan the flames of his anger. Not important. Their marriage. Her running out on him. Her family stealing what was his. Not important. Anger was rife inside him and he struggled to keep his tone and his expression from revealing his feelings. “That’s not what you said at the time.”

“How is it I was not told of this marriage?” The accusatory tone in her father’s voice singed the air.

“Papa—”

Rico didn’t believe the other man’s outrage for a second. He knew all about the Corettis. He’d done his research over the last several years. And though the private investigators he’d hired hadn’t been able to locate Teresa, they’d come up with quite a bit of very interesting information. Enough to see the whole damn family locked away, if he wished.

So, no, he didn’t believe Nick’s performance. He knew that thieving had been a way of life for the family for generations. Lying was their stock in trade.

“I’m not playing this game,” he said simply, quietly.

“Game?”

He glanced at the older man, then shifted his gaze back to the woman who haunted him. “As I said, return the jewelry you stole and you and your son can leave the island. Teresa will stay here. With me, until you bring me the gold dagger that was taken from me five years ago.”

“You cannot hold my daughter here against her will,” Nick said, the steel in his voice telling Rico this was a man accustomed to being obeyed.

“It’s that,” Rico said, staring at the other man now, “or I go to Interpol.”

Nick waved that threat away with a negligent, well-manicured hand. “Interpol doesn’t worry me.”

“Once I hand over the information I have gathered on your family over the years, I think you’ll feel differently.”

Dark brown eyes narrowed. “What information?”

“Enough to end you,” Rico promised, ignoring Teresa’s soft gasp.

“Impossible,” Nick blustered, but concern glinted in his eyes. “There has never been evidence found against my family.”

“Until now.” Rico gave him a smile. “Private investigators can go where the police can’t. And if the law should receive this information from an anonymous source...”

Nick Coretti—or Candello, as he was registered here—looked as if he’d been cornered. And he had.

Now the years of hiring the best private investigators in the world and collecting data and evidence were finally paying off—just as he’d known it would one day. Rico had been methodical as only a King could be when faced with an enemy. Add to that heritage the Latin blood that swam in his veins and revenge tasted sweeter than he had even imagined.

“Your sons are not always as careful as their father,” he said, watching suspicion and then a cautious wariness shine in Dominick Coretti’s eyes.

“You’re bluffing.”

Rico smiled slightly and, without taking his gaze from Nick’s, said, “Teresa, tell your father I don’t bluff.”

“He doesn’t, Papa,” she whispered and the sound seemed to echo in the plush suite. “If he says he has evidence, he does.”

A frown crossed Nick’s face then and Rico knew he had the man’s attention.

“What is it you want?”

“I’ve already told you. I want what your family stole from me five years ago.”

Nick shot a look at his daughter. “I think you stole something from me, as well.”

He hadn’t stolen Teresa, Rico thought. He’d let his heart rule his head for the first and last time in his life. And just look where that had gotten him.

“Fine, then,” he said. “Call it an exchange. You return my property and I will return yours.”

He knew he was being insulting and he just didn’t give a royal damn.

“Property?” Teresa hissed the word as her back went poker straight and her shoulders squared as if for battle. She lifted her chin and looked up at Rico. “I’m no one’s property. Least of all yours.”

He inclined his head in a nod. “Don’t bother being offended. I’m not interested in keeping you.”

She reacted as if she’d been slapped.

Rico ignored her. “You can go as soon as I have the Aztec dagger back in my possession.”

Not only had Teresa used him and then vanished, she’d done her disappearing act right after the centuries-old dagger had gone missing from Rico’s collection. He knew, thanks to information his P.I.s had gathered, that Teresa’s brother had stolen it from him. And he wanted that dagger. It was a ceremonial dagger, used in the Aztecs’ religious sacrifices, that Rico’s great-great-however-many-greats-grandfather had found in an archaeological dig more than two hundred years ago. Not only was it ancient and a piece of history—it had been handed down in his father’s family for longer than anyone could remember—and Rico would have it returned.

Once he had that—and his personal revenge on Teresa—he could be done with her and the past.

As if Nick wasn’t in the room with them, Teresa took a single step closer to him before stopping herself. Staring up into his eyes, she said, “I got a divorce five years ago. I hired an attorney in Cancún and he filed the papers. He sent me the final decree.”

“It was a fake,” he said sharply.

Rage escalated as he remembered her attorney, a good friend of Rico’s, coming to him, telling him about Teresa’s divorce plans. Because that attorney had owed Rico, he’d given his allegiance to him rather than his client. Together, they’d faked a divorce decree and let her believe the marriage had been dissolved. Of course, he had tried to use the address she gave the lawyer to find her. But she had disappeared again, losing herself somewhere in Europe.

There had been a few times over the last five years that Rico had regretted his decision. But at the time, he’d been too tormented by the way she’d left. Too furious at the way she’d used him only to vanish, to let her go. And still too...enamored of her to allow that disappearance to be final.

Now he was glad he’d done it. For the satisfaction of seeing her shock, if for nothing else. She had thought herself in charge. Assumed that she had left him behind in her tangle of lies.

Even now, he knew she was wondering how he’d found her here. How he’d managed to pluck her from the hundreds of guests currently staying at the Castle.

It hadn’t been hard.

As owner of the hotel, he had access to the guest registry and finding Teresa had been surprisingly easy. She’d signed in under the name Teresa Cucinare—Italian for “cook.” Once he suspected her of the thievery, he had zeroed in on her, then confirmed his suspicions with a quick talk with the front desk.

When his employee had described Teresa Cucinare as drop-dead gorgeous with wide brown eyes and a dimple in her right cheek, Rico knew he had her.

Five years, three months and ten days.

Not that Rico was counting or anything. But he knew down to the damn minute when this woman—his woman—had disappeared.

He’d spent a lot of time thinking about what he would say to her. What he would do when he finally found her. And now here she was and all he could do was stare at her.

He finally allowed himself the time to simply drink her in. From the top of her head down her incredibly lush and curvy body to the tips of her red-painted toes, displayed so nicely in her high-heeled sandals.

Hunger roared to life inside him and smothered even the rage and frustration that had been Rico’s constant companions these last five years. She’d married him. Used him. And then left him looking like a damn fool. There was no forgiveness for that, Rico told himself.

But damn, she looked even better now than she had when they were together. Clearly, the last five years hadn’t been difficult ones for Teresa Coretti.

Coretti.

When he’d married her, he’d had no idea that her last name was infamous throughout Europe. He’d discovered that much later, after she had gone. He’d been able to follow her trail as far as Italy, but after that, it was as if she’d gone up in a puff of smoke. She was as adept at protecting herself as the rest of her family was. The police had never been able to pin a crime on the Corettis and Rico hadn’t been able to find her, no matter how many P.I.s he’d hired in so many different countries he’d lost count.

But all of that was over now. He had her. Here. At his place. And damned if she’d get away from him again.

“Rico—”

Her voice was low, breathless, sexy enough to jolt through him like a bolt of lightning. Damn, Rico hated to admit—even to himself—that he was still affected by her. Five years and he still wanted her more than his next breath.

But this time that want, that need, would be assuaged on his terms.

“Been a long time,” he finally said, keeping his gaze fixed with hers.

“I know—”

“What amazes me—” he spoke quickly, interrupting whatever she might have said “—is that you had the guts to show up here.”

“If you’ll let me explain...”

“Why? So you can spout whatever lies you’ve rehearsed for this occasion?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Now, I think we can all discuss this in a civilized manner.”

Rico’s gaze darted to Teresa’s father. Dominick Coretti. Head of a family of thieves and no doubt the man who had taught his daughter her precarious sense of honor. Studying him, Rico had to give the man credit. Caught red-handed, Nick Coretti looked unflappable. As if nothing more important had happened than his champagne had gone flat. This despite the fact that everyone in the room knew that he’d been outmaneuvered.

“Civilized?” Rico repeated. “Is it civilized to steal from others? Is it civilized to use your daughter to keep a man busy so that you can steal from him?”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t use my children.”

“Just train them, do you?” Rico sneered.

“That’s enough.” Teresa took a breath and then, deliberately turning her back on Rico, she faced her father. “Papa, will you excuse us?”

The older man looked from his daughter to Rico and back again. “Are you certain, Teresa?”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Please.”

“Very well.” Nick tugged at the lapels of his suit, lifted his chin and met Rico’s gaze. “I will not be far.”

“That would be best,” Rico told him. “And I would advise that you not consider trying to leave the island.”

Nick stiffened, clearly insulted. “I would not slink away like a coward, leaving my daughter behind.”

Rico wasn’t so sure, but since he was anxious to get the man out of the room, he didn’t say so aloud. Instead, he waited until Nick had left the suite before saying to Teresa, “The harbor’s closed. He won’t get out.”

“He wouldn’t leave me,” she said stiffly.

“Honor among thieves, you mean?” Rico snorted a laugh. “Hard to believe coming from the woman who used me just long enough for her family to steal what was mine.”

“I didn’t—” She stopped, shook her head and muttered something he couldn’t catch before she looked up at him. “What did you mean when you said we’re not divorced?”

“Just that. The decree your lawyer sent you was a forgery.”

She huffed out a breath and folded her arms across her chest. “A forgery.” Swinging her long fall of hair back behind her shoulder, she fired a glare at him. “And I’m guessing that was your idea.”

“It was.”

She sucked in a gulp of air. “You’ve got a lot of nerve calling my family cheats and liars. You’re no better.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he told her, moving in closer, pleased when she scurried back a step or two. “I never stole from you. I never lied to you. I didn’t use you.”

“Maybe not,” she countered, “but you tricked me. You let me believe we were finished. And why? So you could find me and what, keep me locked in a dungeon here on the island?”

He gave her a small smile. “Sadly, I have no dungeon here at the hotel. But I’m sure I can come up with something appropriate.”

“You can’t be serious.” Teresa gave a quick look to either side of her, as if expecting help to come riding to her rescue. But there was nothing. They were still alone in the luxury suite and the tension simmering between them grew thicker by the moment.

“I’ve never been more serious.” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “You’re still my wife.”

He’d waited for this moment. To have her in front of him, telling him to his face that their marriage had been nothing but a lie. That it had been a ruse to allow her family access so they could steal from him.

And now that the moment was here? It was every bit as sweet as he’d dreamed it would be.

She turned her head slightly and glared at him. “You know as well as I that you can’t keep me prisoner, Rico.”

He shrugged and tucked his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. As his gaze locked with hers, he said, “I won’t have to. You’ll stay with me of your own accord.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’ve already told you and your father that I have enough evidence to put the Coretti family in jail for centuries.”

“You would do that just to get even with me?”

“Don’t doubt it for a moment,” he said tightly. “You would be surprised what I might do to someone who deliberately used me. Cheated me.”

“I didn’t cheat you,” she started. “When I found out my brother had—”

“I’m not interested in your explanations,” Rico spoke up, cutting her off as he moved in close enough to lay both hands on her shoulders. The feel of her again after all this time was almost too much for him. He steeled himself against his body’s instinctive reaction to being with her and focused instead on that still-hot ball of rage in the pit of his stomach. “The time to explain was five years ago, Teresa.”

She flinched and he knew his words had been a direct hit. Oddly, that knowledge didn’t give him as much pleasure as it should have. “All I want from your family now is what’s rightfully mine.”

Her eyes widened and as if he could read her thoughts, he shook his head. “No, Teresa. I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about the Aztec dagger your brother took from me. I want it back. And until I get it, you’re not going anywhere.”


Three

Teresa could have sworn she actually felt a lock tumble on the box Rico had trapped her in. He was right. No matter what he wanted or asked or demanded of her, she’d give it, because she couldn’t risk her family going to prison.

She felt more vulnerable with Rico now than she had on the night she’d first met the staggeringly sexy man on a deserted Mexican beach. And back then, one look at Rico and her knees had gone weak. Now, though, she couldn’t risk showing any weakness at all. The man in front of her might still be her husband—but he was a stranger.

She’d tried to keep up with him, of course. She hadn’t been able to rid her mind or heart of his memory, so she’d fed the need to see him by reading tabloids and looking him up on Google. And though it had chewed at her heart to see him squiring some beautiful model or actress around, it had also met the need she had to see his face. He hadn’t exactly lived the life of a monk since the last time she’d been with him. But she couldn’t hold that against him, could she, since they were divorced.

Or so she’d thought.

“I can’t believe we’re still married.”

His mouth curved into a brief, sardonic smile. “Believe it, Teresa.”

She shook her head. “But I paid the attorney. He sent me the final decree.”

“Esteban came to me when you hired him,” Rico told her. “He owed me a debt.”

“And you used me as his payment?”

“You can actually accuse me of using you?” There was no smile now, only fire flashing in his blue eyes as if the anger churning inside was manifesting into actual flames. “I think we both know the real truth.”

She couldn’t blame him for believing what he did, but it just wasn’t accurate. “I didn’t use you, Rico. I wouldn’t.”

“I would find that easier to believe if you hadn’t vanished—along with a valuable antique.”

She pushed one hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the thick, black mass. Even now, she could kick her brother Gianni. Five years ago, she’d specifically asked her family to leave Rico alone, but Gianni hadn’t been able to help himself. Instead, he’d taken the gold Aztec dagger that Rico prized above everything else. And in doing that, Teresa’s brother had made Teresa’s decision for her.

“I didn’t know the dagger had been stolen until you told me that last morning.”

“And I should believe you?”

She sighed. “Believe me or don’t.”

“Your family took it.”

“One of my brothers, yes.” God, she was shaking. Seeing him again was so hard. Harder than she would have thought. Seeing him look at her with an angry distance in his eyes was even more difficult.

There had been a time when his eyes shone with passion and something more. Five years ago, she had been swept into a romance so wildly unexpected it had almost been a fairy tale.

And it had all ended with a shattering crash. Much like Cinderella finding herself facing midnight—unwilling to see the magic end.

“I can’t believe we’re still married. Or that you would go to so much trouble just to punish me.”

“You should have known that I wouldn’t let you go,” he told her.

“I suppose I should have.” Teresa looked into his eyes again, hoping to see...what? Love? Passion? Once, she’d seen everything she had ever dreamed of in his eyes. But those days were gone and she had no one to blame but herself. She never should have allowed herself to fall in love with him. And when she did, she never should have kept her identity a secret. Never should have run without at least trying to explain. But rewriting the past was a futile mental exercise. Nothing would change what had happened. Nothing would bring back the magic she had once found in Rico’s eyes. Because all she read in those blue depths now was a cool detachment that tore at her even as it forced her to adopt a defensive posture.

“What was the point of holding on, Rico? I would have thought you’d be happy to let me go after the way things ended.”

“You took what was mine,” he said simply, his features as stony and aloof as an exquisitely carved statue.

For one heart-stopping second, Teresa thought he might have been talking about her. That he had considered her important enough to him that he’d purposely kept them legally tied together. Then, as she continued to stare into blue eyes that refused to warm, she admitted the truth to herself. His holding on to her had nothing to do with her—it was all about the dagger that Gianni had stolen.

She closed her eyes briefly and wished herself anywhere but here. When she opened her eyes again, though, she was still looking at Rico, still feeling his icy stare dig right through her.

“I didn’t know my brother was going to steal the dagger.”

He laughed. “You think I believe you?”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “But I wanted you to know that.”

“Five years later, you decide to try honesty.” He shrugged her statement off. “You and your family. Very versatile. You’ll even make a wild attempt at the truth if you think it will serve better than a lie.”

“This isn’t about my family,” she argued. “This is about me. And I’m trying to tell you the truth of what happened.”

“Thank you,” he said, sarcasm dripping from the words. “Now I know. It changes nothing.” Rico moved past her, walking to the terrace that overlooked the hotel he’d built and the surrounding grounds.

When she followed him, he didn’t even look at her when she spoke. “How long do you plan on keeping me here?”

“Until your thieving family returns my property.”

She flushed and was grateful he hadn’t seen it. Hard to argue with the truth, no matter how much she’d like to. “This is only about the dagger then?”

“Oh,” he said, turning to face her. “It is about much more than that.”

The warm, soft trade winds blew across the terrace, ruffling Rico’s collar-length black hair. His eyes were shuttered, emotion carefully hidden beneath a veneer of contempt.

She shivered a little at the ice in his gaze and remembered a time when his eyes had held nothing but heat when he looked at her. A time when the two of them hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. A time when passion had sizzled in the air and hunger was never sated. But the past was as ephemeral as the trade winds, blowing through her heart and mind and passing all too quickly.

“What exactly is it that you want from me, Rico?”

“I want you,” he said flatly.

The ice inside her melted in a flash, dwarfed by a rush of heat that boiled her blood and fried her bones. “You what?”

“I want you here,” he said, leaning casually against the railing. Feet crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest, he added plainly, “In my bed.”

“You do?” Had she read him completely wrong? Had he really kept their marriage alive because he still felt something for her? Was this his way of telling her that he wanted them to be together again?

“For one month,” he qualified, splintering whatever rainbow-and-unicorn thoughts that were still revolving through her mind.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said. “And you’re lucky I’m not demanding the five years that you were gone.”

She blinked.

“You will stay here for one month. You will share my bed like a good wife.”

“You are not going to blackmail me into sex.”

“Of course not. But we will sleep in the same bed. And when we do have sex again, Teresa, it will be your idea,” he said, giving her a knowing smile. “You remember how good it was between us...”

Oh, she really did.

“So blackmail won’t be necessary.”

He was probably right, God help her.

“As I was saying,” Rico continued, “at the end of that month, your brother returns my property and I let you go—with a real divorce this time. More,” he added when she opened her mouth to speak, “I’ll give you the evidence I hold against the Coretti family. You can destroy it yourself.”

Wow. Her brain had a lot to sift through: everything he’d said, the cold way he’d said it and the right way to react. Her thoughts tumbled over each other in a crash of confusion until she was finally able to concentrate on the single word that stood out from the rest.

“Destroy?” she asked. “You’d turn it all over to me?”

“I will,” he assured her, then lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “And I don’t lie.”

She frowned at the little slap, but instead of arguing the point, she turned her mind to what he’d promised. If she could destroy any evidence on her family, the Corettis would be safe again. But as her father had said, no one before Rico had ever managed to catch them in the act. How could she be sure that Rico had what he said he did?

“How do I know you have anything for us to worry about?”

“As you told your father not long ago, I don’t bluff.” He pushed away from the railing. “I have enough on them to make any law enforcement agency do a dance of joy as they close a cell door on your father and brothers.”

A knot tightened in the pit of her stomach. Rico was a man who said what he meant and always meant what he said. If he promised retribution, then it would be delivered with a vengeance. If he said he could lock her family away, the cell door was as good as shut.

Her heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a cold fist. Looking into his eyes only made the chill she felt go deeper. Though he stood no more than three feet from her, the distance separating them could just as easily have been measured in light-years. “This is about revenge, then?”

“Absolutely.” He smiled, but it was an empty echo of the smile she remembered. The smile that still haunted her dreams. “Did you expect me to declare my love? To have spent the last five years pining away for the woman who stole from me and vanished?”

“Pining away?” she repeated with a short laugh. “Please. I’ve seen the pictures of you in the magazines. Actresses. Models. Socialites. You didn’t look like you were crying on their shoulders, either.”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “Jealous?”

Desperately. “Hardly.”

His gaze narrowed on her. “A thief from a family of thieves. Why should I believe you?”

“I didn’t steal from you,” she argued, beginning to feel a flutter of outrage building inside.

“Your family did, which makes you as guilty as they.”

Okay, she had to give him that. She was a Coretti, after all, despite the fact that she’d never taken part in one of their jobs. “So it’s revenge on my entire family that you’re after?”

“No, Teresa,” he said, moving closer, lifting one hand to cup her cheek. The tender touch was muted by the hard glint in his eyes. “From your family, I want only my property. From you...I want only the pleasure we’ll find together during the next month.”

Everything inside her rippled and pulsed. Just those few words were enough to build a fire in her blood. How was it fair that he had been with countless women over the last five years while she had lived like a nun? How was it fair that he could whisper the word pleasure and have her ready to fall into bed with him?

“And if I’m not interested in sex with you?” she asked, with a mental hah! “Would you force me?”

His blue eyes flashed a warning. “You think I would—could do that?”

“No,” she murmured, shaking her head for emphasis. “I don’t.”

He nodded. “Good.”

“But,” she said quickly, “apparently you’re not above blackmailing me into your bed.”

“You’re my wife. You belong in bed with me. And as I’ve told you, I don’t have to blackmail you into sex. Soon, you’ll be begging me to take you,” Rico told her with a smile. “And I will be happy to acquiesce. Think of it. You spend the month with me and I don’t see your family locked away.”

“I don’t remember you being so hard...” Her words trailed off as she shook her head sadly.

* * *

“A lot has changed in the last five years,” he told her.

Her eyes were golden-brown and dreamy, just as he remembered them. Her scent was the same, too, faintly floral with a hint of summer nights. His hands itched to hold her and he told himself he was just eager to get started on the revenge for which he’d waited so long.

But it was more than that and he knew it.

The memory of this one woman had tormented him enough that no other woman had ever come close to erasing Teresa from his mind. It was time now to exorcise that memory so he could move the hell on.

“Do you agree to my terms?” He asked the question because he wanted to hear her say yes. He wasn’t the kind of man to take a woman against her will—and it pissed him off that she could even suggest it to him. But he wasn’t above making sure the woman he desired didn’t have much choice, either. At least in Teresa’s case.

She was the only woman who had stayed with him, thoughts of her eating away at him day and night. And it wasn’t just her betrayal that made her so unforgettable. No, it was more than that, though the fact that she’d lied to him and used him gnawed at Rico constantly.

She was the woman who had made him feel more than he ever had. Hell, he’d married her when he had been sure that he’d never want to be with one woman for the rest of his life. With Teresa, though, he hadn’t second-guessed anything. He’d listened to his heart and thought her a gift. He’d married her because he hadn’t been able to imagine his life without her. He’d let down his guard around her and had ended up paying for that.

After she had vanished, he’d figured out that she hadn’t been a gift, but a curse. Now he was going to get past the old anger and sense of betrayal. He was going to use her to pave his way to the future.

A future without Teresa Coretti.

“So?” he asked, a casualness he didn’t feel coloring his tone. “What is it going to be, Teresa? Do you stay with me for a month or do you wave goodbye to your family as the jail doors slam shut?”

She lifted her chin, fixed her gaze on his and whispered, “I’ll stay.”

* * *

Teresa was surprised Rico had let her out of his sight.

Although, she told herself an hour later, maybe she shouldn’t have been. He knew all too well that she wouldn’t do anything to endanger her family. So of course she would agree to his terms. And of course she wouldn’t make a break for freedom. And of course she would end up having sex with him. How could she not? Teresa had been dreaming about Rico for five years. Sleeping beside him wouldn’t be enough and she knew it as well as he did.

She walked along the dock, headed for the boat launch where her father and brother waited. Rico had made arrangements for her family to be taken from the island to St. Thomas. From there, they could take a plane back to Italy and hopefully retrieve Rico’s dagger from Gianni’s collection. Thankfully, her brother hadn’t sold the dagger, as he did most things the Coretti family liberated from their owners. Gianni had a small, priceless collection of his own and she knew that dagger was a part of it.

In one month, her family would be back to return the antiquity and free Teresa.

A soft breeze caressed her and tossed a long lock of her hair across her eyes. She plucked it free, plastered a fake smile on her face and studied her family as she approached them.

Her father was cool and calm—nothing shattered the reserve Dominick wore as elegantly as the three-piece suits he preferred. But Paulo looked agitated. He paced back and forth in front of their father, gesticulating wildly and arguing. Though his words were caught by the wind and carried away from her, Teresa had no problem guessing what he was saying. He was furious and she knew that her brother in a temper was someone to avoid. Though there was no chance of that now. She had to face them both, give them Rico’s ultimatum and then watch them go.

“Cara,” her father murmured as she came closer. “You’re leaving with us after all?”

“No, Papa,” she said and withstood the urge to throw herself into her father’s arms for a hug she badly needed. “I’m staying here.”

“For how long?” Paulo demanded.

“A month.”

“Hell with that!”

She looked up at her older brother and winced when she saw just how angry he was. He was tall and dark and right now his brown eyes were flashing with fury. “Paulo, you being mad isn’t helping me.”

“I’m supposed to just accept this?” he asked. “Just leave you here with that man for a month?”

“Yeah. We all have to accept it.” Reaching out, she gave Paulo a brief hug and felt better when he squeezed her back. Paulo and Gianni had always looked out for her. Since she was the baby of the family and a girl, it was to be expected, she supposed. So naturally Paulo would have a hard time seeing her caught in a web he couldn’t get her out of.

“Like it or not,” she said, looking from her brother to her father, “Rico is still my husband.”

“Yeah, and I want to know how that happened,” Paulo muttered.

“Me, as well,” her father said.

“I’ll tell you everything when I leave here, okay?” Teresa took a deep breath and blew it out in a rush. “Look, the important thing to remember is that Rico won’t hurt me.”

“No, just trap you.”

“Paulo...”

“Color this any way you choose, Teresa,” her brother said, “but the hard truth is, he’s using us to get you back into his bed.”

She winced and tried not to look at her father. Maybe Paulo was right—but what her brother didn’t know was that Teresa was torn about her own reaction to the situation. Yes, Rico wanted his dagger back, but was it also possible that he wanted her, too, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself?

“Surely not,” Dominick muttered.

“Why else would he keep her here for a month?” Paulo threw his hands high in disgust. “He knows we could get hold of Gianni and have that damned dagger back here by tomorrow. He’s doing this deliberately. To keep Teresa where he wants her.”

“This is not acceptable,” her father said shortly.

“Papa, we’re married.”

“This does not give him the right to—”

Thankfully, he didn’t finish the sentence. There was only so much more Teresa could take today. Besides, she knew Rico well enough to know that nothing would change his mind. Firing a glare at her big brother, she said, “One month. Then you can return the dagger Gianni stole and Rico will let me leave. With the evidence he’s gathered about us.”

Paulo pushed one hand through his hair. “I still don’t like it.”

“I don’t either,” she admitted, “but we don’t have a choice.”

“I won’t leave you here with him,” her father said softly. “I won’t use my child to bargain for my own safety.”

“What Papa said,” Paulo muttered. “If your ex wants to throw us in jail, let him.”

She loved them both for wanting to make the sacrifice, but she couldn’t allow it. “You’d all go to prison for years.”

“But you didn’t do anything wrong,” Paulo argued. “Not right that you should be the one to pay this price.”

Teresa fought down a tide of guilt that seemed to swell up from the bottom of her heart. If that were true, she thought, she wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. She had been wrong. She’d lied to Rico from the beginning and then she’d run away rather than tell him the truth.

“Gianni stole the dagger, that’s true,” she said, with a glance over her shoulder at the Tesoro Castle up on the hill behind her. “But I’m not entirely innocent in this either.”

“This doesn’t feel right, Teresa,” Paulo told her, “leaving you here. With him.”

Shaking her head, she looked back at her brother. “He’s still my husband, remember?”

Her father gave her a long look. “Not for much longer.”

“One month, Papa. I’ll tell you everything at the end of the month.”

One of the island’s launch boats fired up its engine, shattering the quiet and bringing home the fact that soon Teresa would be alone with a man who’d waited five years for revenge. Sadly, she was both concerned about that...and aroused.

Talking to her family again, she said, “Don’t worry. I’m not in any danger. Rico’s angry, but he would never hurt me.”

“He’s keeping you here against your will,” her father reminded her.

“I’m staying because I choose to stay, Papa,” she said.

He frowned, glanced at the launch boat that would take them to St. Thomas, then turned back to her. “We’ve already tried to call Gianni. He’s not answering his phone. We’ll find him, though, and get the dagger your husband requires.”

Briefly, she wondered where her oldest brother had vanished to this time. Gianni hadn’t been around much in the last couple of years and when he did spend time with the family, he was even more secretive than usual.

“Wait a month before returning, Papa. Rico means what he says.”

“I will wait,” Nick answered with a hard look at Paulo, who was grumbling under his breath. “If you’re sure you want to do this.”

Want was a strong word, she thought. Oh, she wanted Rico, there was no denying that. But if she had any real choice, would she choose to stay with a man who could barely stand to look at her? Probably not. But the truth was, they were all out of options.

“I’m sure,” she said and hoped her voice sounded stronger than she felt at the moment.

“I still don’t like it,” Paulo muttered.

“Neither do I,” their father agreed, then stepped close enough to draw his daughter into the circle of his arms. He held her tightly for a long moment and Teresa snuggled in, taking the comfort he offered before he leaned back to look at her. “You are the one who decided to not be a part of the family business, Teresa. It is not right that you are the one to pay for your legacy.”

She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “It’s only a month, Papa. Then I’ll really be free. And so will my family. That’s all that matters.”

He huffed out an exasperated breath then snapped, “Take the bags to the boat.”

With a last look at his sister, Paulo scooped up their luggage and headed down the dock.

“You’re certain you’ll be safe here?”

“I will,” she lied. Of course, she wasn’t worried about Rico actually hurting her. Not physically, anyway. But every time he looked at her through eyes that spat fury, a new emotional wound opened up inside her.

Nodding, Nick looked up to the white hotel on the crest of the hill behind them, as if he could see straight into Rico’s eyes. When he turned back to his daughter, he sighed. “I should have listened to you, cara, about staying away from this man. I swear to you now, when this month is over, Rico King will be nothing but a bad memory. For all of us.”

He had never been a bad memory to Teresa, though. And she knew that after another month with him, most likely spent in his bed, she would never again be able to pry him out of her mind. But her father didn’t need to know that her heart was still uncertain when it came to the man who was now pulling their strings like a master puppeteer.

“It’ll be fine, Papa.”

Still frowning, he nodded. Then he kissed her forehead and stepped back. “One month, Teresa. We will come back for you in one month.”

She nodded too, though her heart was breaking. Her family was leaving and any minute now she would be alone with the one man who could shatter her heart and soul. “I’ll see you then.”

She watched them board the small craft and stood on the dock, gaze locked on the boat until it was no more than a smudge on the horizon. Then she turned and stared up at Rico’s castle—wondering what kind of dungeon he had in store for her.


Four

A half hour later, her family had left the island and Teresa was exactly where Rico wanted her. In the bedroom of the home he’d had built for himself on the island. Just beyond the hotel, there was a rise of land that overlooked the ocean on one side and the forest on another. Rico had known the moment he’d seen it that this was where he would build his house.

And though he had furnished it and staffed it and lived in it for almost a year now—it had felt empty to him until today. Now she was here and the palatial home felt...crowded.

He watched her walk around the room, stepping tentatively, as if she expected land mines to be lying beneath the gleaming bamboo floor. White linen curtains rippled and danced in the island breeze that wafted through the open windows. Birds in the trees beyond sang in harmonies that lent a peaceful air to this confrontation that was anything but peaceful.




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